The Night of the Victorian Plot
by BarkingatJim
Summary: This story is the result of a challenge I made to Andamogirl. She said make it hard so I challenged her to transpose the boys to another country of our choice. Tea plays a large part in my story. I have been accurate in many respects and made up a lot of stuff as well. My story takes place in November 1875 – a momentous year in British history. To find out why read on.
1. Chapter 1

**The Night of the Victorian Plot**

Chapter 1

 **November 1875**

It was raining in the capital so, when James West entered the office he shared with his colleague Artemus Gordon, the first thing he did was to remove his bowler hat and divest himself of his Ulster and shake it to displace any water droplets remaining on its surface.

"Watch out will you," Gordon said.

"Sorry, didn't see you there."

Artemus Gordon refrained from pointing out that West couldn't have failed to see him and that this was the fifth time in as many days that he had pelted him with water; as many days as it had been raining in fact.

West hung his coat next to Gordon's Inverness and then noticed that his colleague had the Times opened on his desk. "Anything of interest?" he asked.

Gordon looked up at him. "The Government reports a drop in reported cases of typhoid," he said.

"That'll be down to that fellow Bazelgette. It took him ten years but London finally has a proper sewerage system."

"Yes, a remarkable feat," Gordon agreed.

"Quite. Anything else?"

"There's a small piece about a German delegation arriving in London. Might mean work for us."

"Undoubtedly, who is the head of the German Department these days?"

"Anderson," Gordon replied, referring to Sir H Percy Anderson.

West and Gordon had been working for the Foreign Office for several years, sharing a room in the classical building designed by George Gilbert Scott. They couldn't know that at that moment they were being discussed in an office on a different floor of the building.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Lionel Carruthers, their superior, was talking with a member of the German Department who had been sent by Anderson on a rather delicate mission. They were discussing the credentials of West and Gordon over a cup of tea.

"It seems James West is renowned for his fighting skills," Carruthers was saying, referring to the record in front of him. "He was excellent at boxing and rugby at his public school and cricket of course."

"Goes without saying."

"After that he attended Sandhurst and then he entered the Royal Artillery as a Captain but resigned his commission after taking part in the Welseley Expedition in 1870."

"The Welseley Expedition?"

"Yes, the Red River Rebellion, in Manitoba. They captured Fort Gary from the rebels but the leader managed to escape across the American border before they could try him for murder; Louis Riel his name was."

"Yes, I do remember something about it. Didn't the men have to hike across the Canadian wilderness for several months with all their equipment and supplies?"

"Yes, because those dashed Yankees wouldn't allow us access to United States territory. Don't see why. Rebels were French as far as I recall. Always interfering in matters that don't concern them, those blasted Americans. Still, after all those privations I can't blame West for thinking he'd had enough. He joined us here at the Foreign Office shortly after."

"And what about Artemus Gordon?"

"Ah yes, let me refresh my memory." Carruthers picked up the other buff folder lying on his desk and perused its contents. "Gordon was tutored at home before he attended Cambridge. He has an outstanding knowledge of languages, ancient and modern. Instead of studying he spent a lot of his time at the local theatre and learned a lot about acting and the art of make-up. Sounds a bit rum…oh yes it was evidently of great use during his time in the Rifle Brigade."

"In the Rifle Brigade?"

"Yes, he was a Major in the First Battalion. It seems he became a master of disguise during the Crimean War. He was a firm favourite with the Russian troops until they found out he was British. Speaks the language like a native, it says here. He got safely back behind British lines by the skin of his teeth."

"What happened after that?"

"He took part in the siege of Sevastopol and was awarded with the Victoria Cross three years later."*

"He must have been quite young at the time."

"Yes," Carruthers replied. "Though he's fifteen years older than West. Not long after the war he resigned his commission and took up a career in the theatre. It says here that he specialised in character acting."

"Good grief, that's quite a career change. How did he end up in the Foreign Office?"

"After his father died he decided to put his talents to better use, in service to the British Empire. With his language and tactical skills he was snapped up by Villiers who was in charge back then."

"From what you've told me I'm sure the old man can make use of them. But can you guarantee their discretion? The matter can never be made public."

"I'll vouch for them in that respect. They're my two best men. I would tell you something of the work they've been doing here but that's top secret information, not the sort of thing with which we would trust the German Department."

The man gave a strained laugh. "I'll send in my report to Sir Percy and I'll let you know if and when the Department needs their services."

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

"Well there you are then, James," Artemus said, putting down his tea cup and waving a memo at him. "We've to report to the German Department at two this afternoon. It must be something to do with the delegation."

"Yes, undoubtedly, but what?"

"That, James my boy, is the question. I wonder if we're to be briefed by Sir H Percy Anderson himself."

"What lowly office clerks like us?" James said with a wink.

Artemus laughed. Only a handful of men knew what the pair of them had actually been doing since they joined the Foreign Office. Some of those men were bound by the Official Secrets Act while the rest had inevitably faced the long drop # and were thus unable to talk.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

"Mr West, Mr Gordon," one of the senior members of the German Department welcomed the two men. "My name is Arthur Westcott.

The two men shook hands with Westcott in turn and then he said, "Please be seated."

James and Artemus sat on the leather chairs facing Westcott's desk and the door opened behind them to admit a pretty young woman bearing a tray with three cups of steaming hot tea, a milk jug and a sugar bowl. There was nothing to eat and Artie was left to merely dream of the rich tea biscuits he had been expecting.

"Thank you, Enid," Westcott said.

The young woman laid tray on the desk and departed.

"You will take tea of course, gentlemen?" Westcott said, pouring milk into one of the cups and adding sugar before placing it next to his blotting pad.

West and Gordon both nodded. There was no circumstance in England where a hot cup of tea would not be welcomed. James drank his tea black and sweet and Artemus added a little milk to his.

"No biscuits?" Artemus asked, hopeful that the omission could still be rectified.

"Afraid not," Westcott told him, without an explanation for the deficiency.

When the noise of stirring spoons had subsided and the first sip or two of tea had been taken, Westcott got down to the business at hand.

"As you have probably read in the newspaper, a delegation of German businessmen has arrived in Britain as guests of the German Embassy."

"What is this, a security detail?" Gordon said. It was obvious from his tone that it was not something he relished. "I would expect their Embassy to deal with that."

"No, this is another matter altogether. One of the 'so-called' businessmen has been brought to our attention by one of our agents in Germany. He is suspected of being behind a series of anarchist plots on the continent."

"Couldn't you have refused him entry to the country?"

"Not without some sort of indisputable proof. He is being wooed by the War Office because he manufactures arms and he has some pretty innovative weapons that they would like to get their hands on."

"What do you want us to do?" West asked.

"Follow him and find out if he is intending to cause any trouble while he is here."

"Won't that be difficult if he is under the protection of the German Embassy?"

"It would if he was at the Embassy but he's not, he's staying at the Rathbone Hotel."

"I see," West said, "and what is the name of this arms manufacturer?"

"Herr Lieblosen."

It was Gordon's turn to speak. "I say, doesn't that mean Loveless in English?" he asked.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

To be continued

* The first Victoria Cross was awarded in 1857, three years after the Siege of Sevastopol. A number of them were given retrospectively to soldiers who fought during the Crimean War.

# This refers to the practice of hanging introduced in England in 1872, in which a rope of 14-15 feet is used causing the neck to break, as opposed to the "short drop" of just a few feet which killed the victim by strangulation, a slow, painful death.


	2. A Foggy Evening

**The Night of the Victorian Plot**

Chapter 2

 **A Foggy Evening**

"This is a real London particular," Gordon remarked, tightening his muffler though what good that would do against thick fog was a mystery to West. It was pretty cold though on that November evening, waiting for Herr Lieblosen to leave his hotel.

Then suddenly the man was only feet in front of them and even though he had been described to them his appearance still came as a shock to the two agents of the Foreign Office. Because of his lack of height, Gordon personally thought he was like an imp appearing from the depths in a puff of smoke. Herr Lieblosen was about three and a half feet tall with greying hair swept back over his ears and touching the collar of the thick coat he was wearing. He had a fat cigar between his lips, the smoke from which only added to the fog swirling around him.

"'Ansom, Guvnor?" Gordon asked, from the box of his Hansom cab. West, dressed in the shabby clothing of an out-of work ostler, was holding the horse's bridle and gave the German the sort of surly look perfected by the lower orders.

Lieblosen nodded and walked toward the cab.

"Here's a threepenny bit for your trouble," Gordon told West, flipping a coin in his direction. West placed it between his teeth and bit down on it to test its validity, all the while keeping his eyes on the small German. Then he put it in his pocket, nodded to Gordon and made his way down the street.

"To the docks," Lieblosen said, with a German accent, as he climbed into the passenger seat.

As the Hansom went past, West ran from the shadows and jumped on, flattening himself against the rear of the passenger compartment, holding on precariously as the vehicle sped through the London streets toward Wapping.

It was a fair distance from the hotel to the docks and West was quite frozen by the time the Hansom reached its destination. He leapt off as the vehicle slowed to a stop and hid in the dark shadow of the doorway to one of the wharf-side buildings.

Sounds were muffled by the thick fog but West could hear Herr Lieblosen descend from the cab and heard it drive away, the noise of the horses and the hard wheels on the cobbled ground quickly dying away, deadened by the fog.

West crept silently toward the sound of Lieblosen's footsteps that rose just above the noise made by the wash of the Thames against the wharf. Soon he heard the little man address an unseen figure.

"Do you have the machine – is it safe?" he heard Lieblosen ask. His companion must have been British as the words were spoken in English.

"Yes, Sir," Came the reply. "The ship docked this afternoon and I lowered it over the side with no problem."

"Nobody saw you?"

"No. They were all too busy with the cargo."

"Well done, Sewell. Where is it now?"

"I tethered it to a dinghy, just under the bridge where it wouldn't be spotted."

"Excellent. Show me where."

Two pairs of footsteps made off down the wharf and West followed at a distance, grateful for the fog which hid his presence. It was just possible to make out the structure of the bridge and to tell when the two men stopped.

"Das ist gut," he heard Lieblosen say as he boarded the dinghy and looked over the side. "I will travel from here down to the Houses of Parliament tomorrow afternoon; that is when they will unveil the statue."

West's ears pricked up. Of course, a statue of Her Majesty Queen Victoria had been commissioned to stand in the garden of the Houses of Parliament. The occasion was the perfect target for anarchists. But what was the machine Herr Lieblosen had mentioned? He had to find out more.

Just then he heard a rustling noise behind him but, before he could react, something heavy hit him on the back of his head and he fell to the cold, wet cobbles.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

When he regained consciousness, West found himself sitting on a chair in one of the warehouses that lined the wharf. The ropes binding him to the frame made movement impossible. He raised his head groggily to see a figure standing in front of him. It was a beautiful woman in a silk evening dress and fur cape.

That explained the rustling noise just before he was hit, he thought. "Enid?" he said.

"Try 'Irma'," she said. "I'm Lieblosen's niece."

"I'm going to have to have a word with Westcott about his hiring policy," West said, gingerly moving his head to clear his thoughts.

"I was very grateful for that job. It gained me access to the information my uncle needed."

"You make excellent tea as well."

"Thank you, Mr West."

"What time is it?"

"It is nearly midnight."

James West frowned. He had been there for over an hour and yet there was no sign of Artemus.

"Where is your uncle?" he asked.

"You will see him soon enough."

"I don't want to trouble him if he's busy."

"On the contrary, it is you who have been busy – a busybody, Mr West. My uncle plans to do something about that. Now I must say good-bye. It is getting very late and I have to be back at my desk in the morning."

"Well, don't let me keep you."

"I would say auf wiedersehen but I doubt we shall meet again," she said. "Oh I forgot, I'm supposed to do this," she added. She leaned toward him and kissed him long and hard on his lips and while he was still stunned, produced a fragrant scarf and tied it tightly around his mouth as a gag before leaving in a swirl of silk and perfume.

Irma/Enid had turned out the lamp before she left. As he sat in the pitch darkness West couldn't help wondering where on earth Artemus could be. He should have returned by now.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

After Artemus had driven away from the docks he had intended to leave the Hansom cab somewhere nearby and return to the docks to assist his colleague. However fate in the disguise of a drunken sailor returning to his ship had scuppered any plans he may have had. Because of the pea-souper Artemus had been unable to see the man wandering down the middle of the road until he was almost upon him. In the last seconds before the inevitable collision he had swerved and hit a lamp-post, smashing the cab and, to a certain extent, his head as well.

Artemus woke up in the London Hospital the next morning. Because of his disguise he had been taken to the poor ward and found himself in one of a number of beds crammed into a draughty room with peeling walls and a stench of blood and other things he didn't care to ponder on.

At least the bed sheets were clean as were the starched uniforms of the nurses. For a moment, when he had first regained consciousness, he had thought he was back in the Crimea, among the wounded and dying and expected to see Florence Nightingale at any moment. The pain in his head soon brought him to his senses though. He put a hand up to his temple and felt a bandage there that was stiff with dried blood. Well at least whatever the injury was it had stopped bleeding.

"Ah you're awake at last," a soft female voice said and he looked up to see a particularly pretty nurse looking down at him. "I will give you some laudanum," she added as she saw the pain clouding his eyes.

"What time is it?" he rasped.

"It's nearly ten o'clock in the morning," she replied. "You really should let me give you something for the pain, you know."

"I can't," Artemus told her. "I need my wits about me and I need to get out of here. Where are my clothes?"

"They are on the end of your bed," she said. "I'll call the doctor and see if he can persuade you to stay where you are," she added as she realised Artemus was attempting to get out of bed.

"I can't stay here, it's a matter of a man's life," he said, wobbling on his feet as he bent over to retrieve his clothes. He couldn't help grunting with the pain.

"At least let me fetch you a cup of tea," the nurse said.

"What's your name?" Artemus asked.

"Polly."

"Well don't worry, Polly," Artemus told her. "I've been through worse than this in the past. I'll be all right."

Polly nodded and against her better judgement helped him into his clothes. Artemus placed a kiss on her irresistible lips and walked as well as he could out of the hospital leaving the nurse to stare after him.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Coincidentally, it was also nearly ten o'clock in the morning when Herr Lieblosen returned to the Warehouse to check on James West. The latter had spent the night alternately dozing and devising a set of tools that could be carried by him and Artemus when they were on assignment. The tools, he thought, could be secreted upon their person and enable them to escape such situations as this one. The tools should include at least a knife, a lock-pick, a small gun and perhaps some kind of incendiary device. He would have to talk to Artemus about it. He was musing on this when the door opened and the diminutive German entered.

"Good morning, Mr West."

West mumbled something through his gag.

Lieblosen loosened the scarf and West used his tongue to moisten his lips, which had become dry overnight.

"Needless to say I will shoot you should you decide to shout for help," Lieblosen warned him, showing his captive the cosh he held in his right hand.

West nodded to show he understood. There had been sounds of work going on at the dock for some hours but the gag had prevented him from calling for assistance.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't wait for you to regain consciousness last night," the German said. "I was anxious to return to my hotel so that I could have a good night's rest. I have a lot to do today."

"Under the circumstances I forgive you," West replied with a false smile.

"I'm not sure you are being sincere but never mind. I expect you are wondering what my plans are."

"No, not really."

"Now I can tell you are being untruthful and that you are actually very interested in my plans so I shall tell you all about them anyway. I have designed and built a watertight sphere which I will use to travel from Wapping to the Houses of Parliament where they are going to unveil a statue of Queen Victoria this afternoon. The sphere has the ability to launch a torpedo at the building. This will happen at four o'clock when your Queen takes tea with the Prime Minister in a room overlooking the Thames. You British are so predictable. Every day at the same hour you must have tea."

"A torpedo?" West said.

"Yes, it is an explosive device named after a genus of electric ray. The first one was designed and built by an English Engineer, Mr Whitehead, in 1866. But I, Herr Lieblosen, have improved on his design."

"Of course you have," West commented. "And what do you intend to do with me?"

"As the most innovative arms manufacturer in all of Europe it pains me to have to use such a simple method for your destruction but time is of the essence and I want your death to look as much as possible like an accident."

"May I ask what this simple method entails?"

"Of course you may, my dear Mr West. You see the small barrel a few feet from your chair? That is filled with gunpowder. Now if I were to melt the bottom of this candle and fix it to the lid of the barrel, like so… and light the candle, like so…it would be a matter of a mere hour or two before the candle burns down and the barrel catches fire and then…."

"Boom!" West said.

"Precisely, Mr West, but unfortunately I cannot wait around to hear it. It will take me several hours to make the journey to the Houses of Parliament as I will have to stop many times to rest. So I must say good-bye, Mr West."

West tried not to show his relief at the fact that he had over an hour before the explosion. He didn't want Lieblosen to know that he was expecting Artemus Gordon to rescue him – or at least he hoped he was.

"I'm sorry you won't be able to enjoy the fireworks," he said.

"Ah, Mr West, you are so witty. It is a shame that you have to die."

He replaced the gag in West's mouth and then left.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

To be continued


	3. Victoria Loses her Head

**The Night of the Victorian Plot**

Chapter 3

 **Queen Victoria Loses her Head**

Every time the candle sputtered hot wax onto the barrel West thought his time was up. He finally realised that, because he couldn't rely on Artemus turning up, he would have to act to save himself. Although it was a long shot he decided to rock the chair he was tied to until it fell over and would hopefully knock the barrel over as well, throwing the candle harmlessly to the ground. The plan was a partial success as the barrel did indeed fall over. Unfortunately the candle didn't go out when it hit the floor but instead set fire to the sawdust which covered it and then the floorboards as well. He lay on the floor watching helplessly as the smoke swirled above him and the flames began to spread.

He had begun to cough behind the gag when the door of the warehouse burst open and Artemus appeared. His face was unnaturally pale and his head was bandaged but he was the best thing West could have hoped to see at that moment.

Several faces appeared over his shoulder, curious dock workers mainly, drawn by the smoke. Artemus turned to them.

"It's all right," he said. "Everything's under control." He shut the door in their faces and James heard their footsteps as they walked away. They were too busy to spend much time on idle curiosity.

"Great jangling bells of St Paul's Cathedral!" Artemus exclaimed when he saw his colleague lying on the floor and the fire getting closer to him. He picked up the half-melted candle and then took off his coat and quickly began to beat out the flames. Eventually there was only some smoke and charred floorboards remaining to show there had been a fire.

"mmer gmmf mo geem," Jim said through the gag.

Artemus untied him and helped him to his feet before removing the gag.

"Where have you been?" James asked again.

Artemus looked at him and then his eyes became unfocused and he began to sway. James was alarmed.

"Artemus, are you all right?" he asked and just managed to grab him by the shoulders before he sagged to the floor. He placed him in the chair and then pushed his head between his knees to restore some blood to his brain.

After a few seconds Artemus raised his hand to ward James off and sat upright.

"Thank you, I feel better now. I guess I shouldn't have exerted myself like that."

"You saved my life," James told him. "What happened to you?"

"I'm sorry, James, I would have been here earlier but I swerved to avoid someone in the fog and crashed the Hansom into a lamp post."

"You do realise that the bill will probably come out of your salary?"

"I haven't had time to think about that; I was too worried about you. Oh my aching head!"

"Who bandaged it for you?"

"A very pretty nurse named Polly," Artemus told him with a wan smile. "I woke up this morning in the London Hospital."

"You should have stayed there," James said, looking his colleague over with concern. "But I'm awfully glad you didn't. That barrel is filled with gunpowder."

"Gunpowder? Let me guess, Lieblosen!. That man is a fiend!"

"Not just him, his niece Irma is in on it as well. She was the one who knocked me over the head so that I ended up tied to that chair."

"Where is she now?"

"Back at the German Department; she is none other than Arthur Westcott's secretary Enid."

"But she makes such excellent tea."

"Yes, it's hard to believe she's a German. But more importantly, Lieblosen is on his way to the Houses of Parliament to blow up Her Majesty with an invention called a torpedo. We have to stop him."

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

It had taken some time for Herr Lieblosen to launch the sphere with Sewell's help. However, he had allowed himself plenty of time to cover the just over three mile journey to the Houses of Parliament.

The sphere was not quite round in shape. It was made up of a wide band of metal at its diameter, which was flat at the bottom, to make it easier for him to stand up. On either side of that were a series of flat hexagonal-shaped glass panels put together in such a way as to make them into hemispheres. Movement through the water was achieved by the use of a propeller at the rear with a crankshaft attached. Lieblosen was kept busy winding the crankshaft by hand. This necessitated many stops for him to rest. The sphere took in air through a one-way valve connected to the outside. The protrusion of the tube leading from the valve was all that could be seen by anyone observing from the shore.

The torpedo was no more than two feet in length and it and the mechanism for firing it were stored at the front of the sphere.

With the sphere already on its journey, Her Majesty was preparing to set off in her carriage for the Houses of Parliament and the unveiling ceremony. She looked down at the empty seat beside her. Even after fourteen years she still missed having her beloved Albert by her side on these occasions.

Meanwhile, Gordon and West climbed into a dinghy that was moored by the docks and set off to intercept the sphere. They didn't catch up with Lieblosen until he had already reached Westminster. He was treading water, just cranking the propeller enough to prevent the sphere from being drawn away by the tide. This was a little harder than he had imagined and it was only three-forty-five in the afternoon. He allowed it to drift for a moment while he set up the torpedo, which would be fired from a long tube, like a portable cannon. 'Wouldn't the British War Office like to get hold of this invention of mine,' he thought, with a chuckle. Well that was never going to happen and after today they would be so busy trying to stabilise their monarchy that they wouldn't have time to worry about weapons contracts. He chuckled again.

It was just when he had gone back to cranking the propeller again and was totally preoccupied that Artemus and James made their attack. They had undressed down to their long-johns and swam underwater toward the sphere's air tube which they could see sticking out of the water. Artemus closed off the opening and then, as the oxygen inside ran out, James swam down into the icy water and tapped on the glass side of the sphere until he had Lieblosen's attention. The small man was startled and James laughed at the surprise on his face as he realised who it was outside, treading water. James pointed to the top of the sphere and Lieblosen could see Artemus and the blocked air tube. Then, as James began to freeze and run out of air, he surfaced for a few minutes. Lieblosen began to crank the propeller in order to dislodge Artemus Gordon but it didn't work as the man was simply dragged along with the sphere. He too was becoming very cold and didn't know how much longer he could last when James tapped him on the shoulder and took over from him. At least their heads were above the water. Artemus climbed out of the river and turned to see James let go of the tube suddenly. He went back into the water and from looking down into the sphere he could see that the German was preparing to fire the torpedo. Lieblosen aimed the sphere at the shore and landed it half in and half out of the water. Then a hatch opened in the top and Lieblosen rose up out of it, the cannon-like device balanced on his shoulder, with the torpedo inside. It was a last chance for the small man to pull off his plan. He reckoned that the two Englishmen were cold and almost exhausted. However, as he prepared to fire, James used all of his strength to manually manoeuvre the small craft to one side and succeeded just in time. Lieblosen fired the torpedo and it shot across the garden of the Houses of Parliament, but it missed the building altogether and instead took the head clean off the recently unveiled statue of Queen Victoria which was in its path.

The reverberation shook the sphere and it shot back across the Thames and began to take on water in vast amounts until it sank from view. James dived down to try and find some sign of the German but the sphere had stirred up the mud from the river bed and he couldn't see a thing. With the last of his strength he swam to the surface and dragged himself up on to the bank next to Artemus, who was almost unconscious, due to having aggravated his head wound. James knew he would have to get him warmed up as soon as possible. Shivering with the cold he turned at the noise of a horn behind him and saw a police launch bearing down on them. In short order they were pulled on board. Artemus revived as they were both wrapped in warm blankets and was well enough to join James in a welcome cup of hot, sweet tea. There was also a packet of rich tea biscuits, much to his delight.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

In a room on the ground floor of the Houses of Parliament the Queen had just bitten into a cucumber sandwich when there was the noise of a loud explosion nearby. She took the time to chew and swallow the mouthful and then asked,

"What was that sound, Mr Disraeli?"

The Prime Minister looked at his watch. It was five minutes past four. "It can't be Big Ben," he said. "Besides it was too loud. Would like me to find out, Ma'am?"

"It can wait until we have finished our tea; it would be a shame to miss out on a slice of such a delicious-looking Dundee cake" the Queen said, taking another bite of her sandwich, followed by a sip of reviving Darjeeling tea.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

James left Artemus warmly ensconced in his bed at The Albany** with instructions for him to rest his head. He then took a couple of police officers and went to the German Department where they assisted him in arresting Enid Bracken a.k.a. Irma Lieblosen. Arthur Westcott was so surprised West thought his eyes might actually pop out of his head.

"But she makes such excellent tea," he said in a bewildered voice.

"I know," West said as he led her away. She was almost as stunned as Westcott.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

The next morning, having made their report to Carruthers, West and Gordon were once more in their office drinking tea.

"Arrowroot, is that all there is?" Gordon questioned looking askance at the biscuit in his hand.

"I filched those from Carruther's secretary so just be grateful to have any biscuits at all."

Gordon shrugged and dunked the biscuit into his tea.

"I wonder what happened to Lieblosen?" James said. "Do you really think he drowned?"

"As we told the old man, it's impossible to know. We haven't heard anything about him leaving the country so he could very well be at the bottom of the Thames."

"If he is he'll be well out to sea by now."

"Good riddance to him," Gordon said.

"At least the War Office was happy when the police managed to rescue that torpedo and the firing device from the river," West said. "It's a very handy weapon."

"I'm afraid Irma will hang," Gordon said, changing the subject.

"She was a beautiful woman, Artemus, and a wonderful kisser."

"I might have known," Artemus said with a sigh. "How many is that now?"

"I'm not counting," West replied. "It just goes with the territory."

"Well why doesn't it come with my territory?"

"It must be my green eyes. If Lieblosen did survive do you think we'll ever see him again?"

"If we do then it will because he wants revenge on us for ruining his grand plan."

West shivered. "I don't think I'd like him when he's angry."

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Herr Lieblosen was at that moment on a ship on its way to the USA. He had transferred a large sum of money to a bank in that country just in case his plans didn't work out. He had Spanish blood somewhere in his family and he fancied his chances in the New World. He would have to change his name of course. Maybe he would use the English version. He would have to drop the German accent and take on an American one. He would practice on the long journey across the Atlantic. He grinned.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

The End

** An apartment complex in Piccadilly, London, with accommodation for bachelors.


End file.
